Music
by theatregeek001
Summary: She always had a way of making the music play. HHr


Summary: She always had a way of making the music play. HHr

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Harry Potter or its associated characters. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: I do not really know where this came from, but I wrote it and thought it was ok. Really, there is not a story behind it, but oh well. Hope you enjoy! BTW, this takes place in 7th year.

Music

Her hands traced the piano. This was something she never did--she never took time to enjoy herself. Usually, she was lost in a book, or making her hand feel sharp pains by writing and not stopping. To Hermione Granger, the whole idea of fun was stupid and a waste of time.Honestly, there is no reason for it. At least what she was doing was going to benefit her future. She never thought playing piano, a simple, vibrating instrument, could make her feel more alive than she ever had.

Harry was the one who introduced her to this. She surprised herself. She would never, NEVER, allow Harry to teach her something (unless it was a life/death kind of thing right?). Normally, it was she who did the teaching. Being the student of your best friend was odd, she realized. But now, having the vibrations beneath her fingers, making soft, elegant sounds through out the room changed it all. As every note echoed, it kept drawing her in. Hermione loved this feeling; the way it had its own unique way of touching her. Who knew music could do that to you?

Her hands continued to play gently and softly. She could not stop and the idea of it was preposterous. She silently thanked Harry with every note she played. He was a genius, in a way she never thought a genius could be. He helped her realize what was important, and that grades and high marks were not everything in life. It got to the point where she had to stop; her hands could not endure the stress of the keys any longer. It troubled her deeply. She missed the piano the moment she walked away from it. It was almost as if part of her soul was with it, and the only way to feel whole again was to play, and play from the heart. It was strange, not being able to explain how she felt or why she felt it.

The best part of it all was how close she came to Harry. Almost every day he was with her, listening and drinking it in. He loved listening to her almost as much as she loved playing. They were a team, in an odd and quiet way. She loved it, but she would never admit it to him. What Hermione did not know was that while Hermione enjoyed and loved this time with Harry, he cherished it. He never really got to have one-on-one time with Hermione like he always wanted to. He felt like a bond had been formed, one that hadn't been there before. That's when he realized he loved her. Smiling to himself, he sat closer to Hermione. What surprised him the most was that she did not object, she just kept playing.

His smile grew and as it did, along went their friendship. "Harry," Hermione said, quiet and soft. He nodded, beckoning her to continue. When she did not Harry stared at her and gently placed her hands on the piano, as she had removed them. She pulled away once again. "Wait, I need to talk to you." Her body emerged, leaving the piano stool there, out in the cold. Harry was confused. She loved the piano just as much as her books...or maybe more. Did he do something to make her stop?

Panic raced through his body when he remembered that he scooted closer to her. He knew Hermione noticed. God how stupid he had been! Why couldn't he just control himself? Trying his best not to announce his panic, Harry gulped and nodded, moving himself next to her on the sofa.

"Thank you," she said. This took Harry by surprise, Thank you? Did she really just say thank you? The panic may have been gone, but the confusion only increased.

"Err…You're welcome." That was all he could come up with, lame response, but hey--he didn't understand why she thanked him. She laughed her sweet soft laugh as Harry smiled. How he loved her laugh.

"You have no idea why I did that, do you? " Harry grinned sheepishly and Hermione laughed harder. "You introduced me to fun, to music, to…life. I never thought I could feel this, Harry. but you let me. YOU helped me see what life can be to the fullest." Harry stared at her thinking "had he really done that much?" He was about to lean in to kiss her when the door burst open. It was Ron.

"He's here." That was all that needed to be said. Jumping off the couch, the trio left the room without another thought. Voldemort had shown, without an invitation and the battle has begun but not for freedom but for ones life. They ran there was nothing more to do. Harry fought hard, panting and using every ounce of power he had to defeat Voldemort. Ron was smart, he used techniques no one ever thought possible or they were too crazy to consider. Voldemort ran from Harry's wand and into Hermione. He snickered, a sinister smirk edged on his hallowed face. She stood tall, seeming fearless. Hermione raised her wand and shouted Avada Kedavra, but Voldemort beat her to it. She never knew what hit her. The last thing she heard was Harry's bloodcurdling scream, the last thing she felt was pain, as if every breath she had left was being ripped away from her body. She was dead.

Perhaps it was sorrow, perhaps it was the sight of your best friend dying right before your eyes and you could not do anything about it. Maybe it was just realizing you loved someone and it was too late, but something in that moment made Harry stronger along with angrier. He managed to defeat Voldemort after years of being chased around like an animal it was finally overmaking his way over to Hermione. Holding her body close and repeating her name hoping that by doing that she would come back to life. " Hermione." That's all he said for hours. Once it was all over, people didn't gather around him. They gave him his space, they all knew how much Hermione had meant to him, and he watched her die. If only there was something that they could do, but time was all he needed...

Its been two years, and yet he still hears her at the piano The unsubstantial way it made him feel like she was there. Almost every night he sits and prays to her, telling her the new things in his life. And every night before he falls asleep, he swears he hears the magical sounds of her song. He guessed she always had a way of making the music play.

Author's Note: Thank you to my wonderful beta, BlackDemonAngel, who has been very helpful. I hope you all enjoyed this story and I hope you will read my others! Thanks!

-Megan


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